


Muse

by yuume



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-26
Updated: 2014-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-06 07:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1849465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuume/pseuds/yuume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi: a rude, independent art student who's struggling to create an mindblowing centerpiece for the biggest art event at his university. Stuck between wanting to rip his own hair out or change programs, enter Eren Jaeger. A seemingly annoying nuisance, and overly clingy fan. Whose presence, despite all odds, becomes one of the greatest inspiration for Levi</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muse

Eyes focused, and brows knitted together, I dipped the small wooden brush into the puddle of blue paint. To any onlooker I probably looked like a really pretentious art student intently focused on the project at hand. To them it might even seem like I was conjuring up the next biggest masterpiece. But, in reality I was doodling shit. 

It’s Monday afternoon, and instead of going to my repetitive art courses, I was comfortably seated at one end of the campus with my canvas nestle in front of me, drawing. Or an attempt at drawing. Despite being an art student in my last year of school, i was constantly hit with drawing blocks.  
Sometimes I even questioned my own reasons for joining the art program. Why didn’t I just choose psychology, or law like my parents wanted me too? What had to break inside my mind for me to even think ‘ohhhhh art seems like an enjoyable and easy path’

It was pointless to daydream about what could have been, but I did it anyways. Every time I hit a block, my mind would drift. If only I was a psych or law student. Then instead of have to create something new and from your imagination, all you have to do was read, memorize and regurgitate. That seemed like a much easier life.

Yet, here I was, frustrated beyond belief, ready to tear my own hair out drawing trees. And it wasn’t even those really nicely drawn ones, where you can see the sunlight disperse in the foliage, it was the kind of crap you drew when you were three. For god sakes, I was the top of my class. An aspiring artist who can produce pieces that would make Van Gogh cry in shame - okay that might be exaggerating a bit - but I was good. 

Good enough to be chosen to draw the center piece for the end of the year art gala. The biggest art event on campus. An exhibition that was meant to showcase all the extraordinary artists of this university. Also an opportunity for other pretentious art student to go around and judge your art while drinking cheap wine, and pretending to be actual people of importance. 

I was suppose to be drawing a piece that demonstrated not only happiness, but a sense of longing and nostalgia. Do you know how hard that is? That’s some serious deep, philosophical shit that I just didn’t have the patience to do. 

Putting my brush down, I stared at the ‘art’ in front of me. It was shit. Actually, if there was a level worse that shit, that would be my art. The trees were basic as hell, and the colors seemed to fight against each other. If I had a gun right now, I would be shooting the fuck of my art, because no one should be subjected to see this kind of crap.

“It’s so beautiful”

A soft voice came from behind me. It seems that I was so lost in hating my work, I failed to notice that a person had approached me.

“I love the simplicity of it”

The side of face twitched. Was this fucker mocking me right now? Just who the fuck was this piece of shit. Turning around in my seat, I stared up at the boy. He looked like he was slightly younger than me. That shaggy brown hair half reminded me of the hobo that lives two blocks from campus.

“As always, your art has this uniqueness to it”

Okay, this sumbitch was definitely mocking me, because only a dumbass would think that piece of crap I drew was ‘good.’

“I admire-”

I stand up abruptly, my spastic actions causes me to knock over my canvas. Mustering my best attempt at looking intimidating, despite being a head shorting than this dipshit, I glare at him.

“Oh no, your art!” The boy made an attempt to go around me and pick up the drawing, but I blocked his path.

“What the fuck did you say about my art?”

I felt something akin to satisfaction when I saw the boy flinch at my tone. “I think your art is beautiful?” He phrases it as a question, as if unsure of his own answer.

What a dumbass.

“Listen, I don’t know what your fucking deal is, but don’t patronize me.”

“I wasn’t” He raised his hands in front of him in defense. “I really like your art.”

I blinked a few times, and stared at the kid. Turns out he wasn’t mocking me but genuinely liked that piece of shit. Seriously was this brat blind or just dumb. 

“Are you mentally handicapped?”

“Excuse me?”

He actually sounded quite offended.

“What are you deaf too?”

“Wow, you’re really rude.”

No fucking shit, why else do you think I was sitting here all alone for the past few hours without a single person coming up to talk to me. 

“I don’t feel the need to be nice to dumb asses, who’s blind enough to think that that piece of shit is ‘good art’”  
“Geez, I’m just trying to be nice here.” He huffed with a slight pout on his face.

Great, now I made him sad. Why do I get myself into these situations. All I wanted was to sit by myself and internally loath my own creation. I didn’t sign up for this bullshit of conversing with this stupid ass kid, who now has an expression like I just kicked his puppy. I half considered walking away, leaving him to his own bubble of sadness. But, his pouting expression was kind cute…..Fantastic, now I’m starting to feel guilty.

“Whatever, if you like the art so much just take it.” 

I bend down and picked up the painting. Hoping that he would take this action as me ‘apologizing’  
It was almost comical the way that pout vanished and a starstruck expression took its place. 

“Really?” 

He reached out and grabbed the painting out of my hands and cradled near his chest as if it were a new born child.

That would be one hideous new born.

But, whatever, as long as I can get that disgusting mess out of my view, I really don’t care where it went. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe then, I can actually start doing good art.

“I will treasure this masterpiece” He started blabbering. “You’re so talented and so perfect.”

I half listened as I turned my back to him, and began packing up my things. So much for my quiet afternoon. I should try the park next time, maybe then I would have any annoying distractions. 

“I’m Eren by the way,” he continues, “Eren Jaeger.”

Don’t care.

“Levi Ackerman” I replied, while shuffling the canvas stand under my arm into a more comfortable position.

“I know, I’m a huge fan of all your works.” He tells me. “I’ve seen them all over the art building.”

Great, he’s a fucking stalker.

**Author's Note:**

> wow first multichapter for ereri and first time first person.


End file.
